Rain Dance
by KamiNoMa
Summary: She can't move and he hates it. She claims it's natural but it doesn't stop him from trying every time she drops. He will move her. Bring her back to life.


Quotes from _Rain Dance_ - The Guess Who and _Born To Die_ - Lana Del Rey

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By Shinigami's big right hand, he was doing it again. Rather, she was doing it again and he was bound, as her loyal friend and partner, to react and respond and do something about it. He kneeled on the edge of the couch, where she lay motionless with the exception of her faintly moving chest. She stared languidly at him, a hint of horror and expectation in her eyes but those qualities drowned in the depths of her extreme lack of energy.

As his hands pried underneath her comatose form, beneath her shoulders and just below her bum, her irritability became more known. She grunted a warning that was not heeded in the slightest though it was absolutely heard. Soul had taught himself how to be extra perceptive and intuitive when it came to matters of this sort. A silent Maka was a dangerous one and he had to read every sign and signal she sent carefully. Had to determine which ones were expressing herself and which ones expressed that he would be in trouble. And how she communicated these would tell him if she were on the brink of recovery and thus he should not interfere for the sake of the painful retribution that would follow. If her noises were as pathetic as they sounded now, it would be a while till she was on her feet again and by then she'd have forgotten her ire.

With a little effort Soul hoisted her up into his arms and carried her to her bed. Then, after debating the method of delivery, he put her down gently, fixed her skirt (she blushed slightly) and drew his face next to her ear. He breathed out insinuatingly and gauged her reaction. He enjoyed the colour that spread as a result. A little closer now. Her eyes were losing a little bit of their lacklustre quality.

"You are feeling sleepy. Very sleepy. Sleeeeepy~~~~~. Close your eyes and succumb to the sandman..." He snickered at her counter reaction. A limpid hand fell on his shoulder and remained immobile. Standing up, he frowned. "Seriously Maka. Try and sleep, okay?" and without waiting for a response he left the room. He was a tad bit flustered while at the same time he felt he was being an ass. He had enough experience with Maka's extreme mood break down to know that sleep was nigh impossible for her. It was ten o'clock on a Sunday morning and he knows Maka could never sleep in the middle of the day, especially if she's had a good night sleep. Which he is sure she did. He heard her at seven, sounding in an exceptionally good mood, making breakfast with an unusual surge of energy - even though she usually didn't prepare morning meals on a weekend because she felt that it was only important that she make sure that _he _eats before school, and if he was going to sleep until all hours of the morning and beyond, he could prep his own food.

Soul's plan for this occasion was to attempt to rile Maka up somehow. In the past he had tried plain old irritation. Doing what she usually told him not to do. But he found it only placed further burden on her in her suffering. Just then, he was in the beginning of a flirtatious irritation scheme. Being so close to her face and about to whisper something sexy, be it his true feeling or not. But, alas, he couldn't muster up the courage and bravado to hold up the act. Plain old whimsical nonsense it would have to be. And too bad because it seemed to be working too.

Soul stared out the window. It was another typically hot day in the desert city of Death. Not a cloud in the blue sky. The roads were quivering in the heat. But despite this, people were getting along with their Sunday as usual. No one who lived here for long enough paid much attention to the heat. Maybe that's why there was never any awkward preamble of weather in the making of a conversation with Death City's residents. Indeed, when Soul had just relocated here and had moved in with Maka, he had tried to make light talk with their neighbour. He didn't want everyone to know how anti-social he could be. Casually, Soul made a comment about the heat and the guy had stared him down for a second before realizing he was new and proceeding to laugh at him. Soul was offended until the guy offered the explanation that no one here speaks of the weather, even if it were cool or it rained. It was a culture piece, a tradition and taboo. The weather did its thing and the people minded their own business.

Strangely enough, that guy hadn't been his neighbour but an estranged ex-boyfriend who had come to trash his ex-girl's place. Months later, he was Soul and Maka's fourth kishiin egg in their first attempt at 100 souls. After that Soul was uneasy with the idea that everybody, no matter how normal, could be dragged into the dark path of madness and evil. Thinking back, Soul supposes that's when he started being vile and suspicious about strangers - especially when Maka was involved. The incident with Giriko was a prime example.

Waking from his thoughts, soul comically knocked his head and went into the kitchen to put away the drying dishes. What he really wanted to do today was break the spell on Maka. But it would be tough. He could wait it out - it usually lasted a day or two (if it was really bad) but the thought of her suffering was not bearable. And it wasn't as if he could take precautions either. He had had an airy suspicion that she was just burning out. It often happened right before and even during holidays (this was the case now, as they had a whole week off from school), or before an empty weekend. Once it happened before an exam and he had been near hysterical to snap her out of it because if she didn't do her best she might jump a cliff in agony.

The thing was, occasionally...Maka would stop working. Stop feeling, stop caring, stop moving. She'd lose energy and drop wherever she happened to be, though sometimes she'd drag herself to lay by the couch (not on it – too much effort) or under her bed (usually hiding from Soul's sincere but useless concern). Luckily, it almost always happened at home. Soul had theories that she just worked too hard on a regular basis and that it was just her trying to recover. But she didn't and that was it. She told him that it just happened and she didn't care to look into it any more than necessary because it didn't do her any harm in the long run. Soul agreed reluctantly and said no more to her, though he mentioned Maka's episodes to Nygus once.

After, Soul went out for some take out for lunch, which he stored in the oven, and checked on Maka. Eye's half open, she stared into space, occasionally clenching a muscle or shrugging her shoulders. In another desperate attempt to get her activated, he fetched her five sixths read book from the coffee table and placed it splayed open on her chest. No response. He left it there and went to watch the television.

When lunch rolled around, Soul heated up the food in the oven, ate first and then brought Maka her meal and a drink. Setting the food beside her, he sat down.

"Maka, lunch is a toasted turkey sandwich with garlic mayonnaise added _after_, alright? Are you going to eat it?" A slight shake of her head had him sigh. "Alright, but you have to at least drink something. Even if the AC is on, it's still pretty hot. Here." He stuck the straw in between her lips and waited, tugging on her hair when she didn't sip. She didn't drink much but some was better than none. A ghost of annoyance haunted her face. "Maka, I'm going to go to Shibusen and check out some missions. We can take one for tomorrow? And then another one for...say, Thursday?" he stared down at her, hoping to take her interest, but she shook her head with a faint "I don't wanna g'on any... No."

"Okay. No missions. Cool with me. But you'll want to do something this week, right? What shall it be? Oh yeah, Maka. Do you want to go out tonight? See a movie? I'll pay." Though Soul listed quite a few options he was met with silence or jerks of rejection. Soul sighed. Another thing about Maka was that she tended to space off and start thinking about things that made no sense. Once he had walked into her room to find her under her blankets, blank eyes tearing up and spilling over. He had been alarmed. One morning, after she had awakened from her coma-like phase she asked him if he liked...who was it? Mal. Yeah, Mal. He would never have seen that question coming. Why would Maka think that he liked anybody!? Then she had started confessing that maybe he was receiving less letters was because she was scaring away potential lovers (though she said she'd slap the next person who thought they could take her Death Scythe as their partner. "As if they can just jump in on our accomplishments!" she fumed). Soul had made his way to her side of the table and just hugged her to him. He couldn't say what possessed him to hold her so intimately. He had held her tight and thanked her for her valuable service because he didn't want the attention anyways.

He was half lying to himself. He didn't know why he had hugged her back then, but he could give a tentative explanation for it now. Being the perverted person Maka had, several times, said he was (Soul had heard her rant on about the infidelity of males so much, he was past the point of believing her and bordering on making Maka his new faith) Soul figured that he had been in the early stages of falling. He hadn't known it but probably felt it. Now Soul could honestly say that he'd like to be receiving a love letter from Maka. Not that he was expecting it to happen anytime soon. She'd never do anything so smitten. Not that he thought she was heartless, but Soul once wondered whether Maka had the capacity to consider any man as a significant other. She seemed very adamant to the idea, thanks to her dad.

Soul held on the romantic idea that if he loved her enough, she would reciprocate his feelings when he confessed. Until that day, he would entertain musings that she was secretly in love with him – but only three times a month and only when she was out. So it didn't become a habit. To his shame he kept one – only one – letter of all the letters he got. It was from anonymous and its language was not overly flowery and - here's the kicker - it was composed of newspaper and magazine cut-outs. Like those threatening notes in movies. At first he was frightened, then amused. The bottom line is that he liked to think it was from Maka. That idea was dimmed when Maka had found it in on his cluttered desk. Her face was blank and her eyes hard as she stared at the letter. All she had said on the matter was, "Nice card. Serial killer?" He hadn't known how to respond but hid it from daylight.

While thinking of other things Soul did not realise that he was rubbing Maka's shoulders rhythmically and upon noticing decided to continue seeing as she didn't seem to mind at all. A glance at the window revealed a platoon of clouds making its way across the sky. Maybe it'd rain today? Or else, everything would just be dark, hot _and_ humid. Urg. He'd say Maka was just melting from the heat but every day is like this.

"We should get out today," Soul said absent-mindedly. "Maybe if it cools down a bit." He thought he heard a snort and figured that was as good a response as any. He thought that maybe Maka's condition was mutating into a contagious stage. His bones felt heavier and slowly he slunk further down on her mattress till he was almost lying down. Half asleep he managed to budge his partner more to left of the bed to make room for himself. The next thing Soul heard was the patter of rain on the window. His arm was asleep, having been used as his pillow. His other hand was resting atop Maka's, her fingers slightly intertwine. He opened his eyes to stare into hers, and then they followed Maka's gaze to the window. The sky was five shades from black. The air conditioner was no longer necessary and it was freezing.

"The rain sounds so nice."

Soul looked back at Maka who was smiling at the window and him in turns. There was a twinkle in her eyes. Her fingers wiggled gentle between his. Soul felt a bit afraid and also inspired. He was too close to his meister to begin with. He'd love to kiss her. Anywhere on that soft person of hers. But he noticed that she seemed to be responding to the rain. He had an idea, stupid though it may be.

"Maka." Her eyes stuck on him, her lips were close and he gulped. Leaning just that little bit nearer till they could feel each other's breath he looked straight into her eyes. "Don't you want to rain dance with me?" She was confused and skeptical but definitely alarmed when he sprung up with uncharacteristic post-sleep energy and took her in his arms. "I think you got to loosen up a bit, Maka. When's the last time you jumped in a puddle?" They were in the hallway, half way down the stairs of the second floor. She groaned, putting up more resistance but she was getting excited.

"You act as if you have experience in that area."

_Oh...Burn. _Soul thought, smirking with good humour. "That was low, Maka." She grinned, and put an arm around his neck in a light apology. They were on the ground floor. Maka opened the door to the outer world so that Soul wouldn't juggle her in his arms again and out he went, drenched in ten seconds with the fat drops. Maka's head fell back, just feeling the rain wash away her fatigue, her fears and troubling thoughts. She could see clearly with the rain washing away the clouds of her mind. She made to stand and Soul immediately obliged. She kept her arms around his neck and smiled.

"That rain dance... I do." And they stepped and twirled in the rain; keeping away from the areas of the pavement they knew previously had smashed bottles. It was all Soul could have asked for in the moment. Dancing without fear of crushing heels, only the two of them and the privacy of thick vales of rain. It was almost romantic. And then the blush crept on his face and he stared into her dreaming eyes. Dare he? He leant forward and kissed her temple. Gauging her reaction as he retreated, never ceasing their slow movements. Maka looked at him pointedly.

"Risky business, Soul. Daring to ruin the mood." Soul looked away, almost embarrassed but Maka drew him closer. _Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain._ He wouldn't refuse. Who knew she could romantic. Who knew Soul could either?

It didn't last very long as giggles bubbled into the kiss and he pulled back. She was so happy. He was touched and swung her into another round of dance. She was lighter on her feet, dancing on water and stone. She took the lead and dragged him into the vacant street. More swirling, attempts at advanced quick steps. Her toes nipped at his but did not harm. Soul lifted her up and she released a yelp of a child.

When they finally got inside – the rain consistent but the dark was getting deeper – they were red as watermelon flesh but as refreshed as ever. Maka was back into her usual groove, already whining about the mess they were making but not without an adoring smile in Soul's direction. He had to pull her back and kiss her once more, to seal what was bloomed in the dark.

"I love you." Maka smiled triumphantly against his confession.

"I love you, Soul." She was afraid to say too much, in case this was a dream but she wanted to let him know. And she hugged him.

"I know. You told me before. Glad you're not a serial killer." She caught on quick and pushed him away, stating that she was going to bathe first. She stopped a moment, and carried on after saying,

"I'm really glad you kept my card."

Soul stood in the hall, quite a bit stunned by the days turn out. Gathering it together he decided to start some tea because Shinigami knows she must be cold and if she got sick tomorrow, forget love! It would be his fault!

* * *

_A/N: First SoMa oneshot. A rough idea and a rough story. The flow's a little...off. But whatevs! I wanted it done. and I didn't want it exasperatingly long._


End file.
